S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

"I’ll make a poultice that will take away the sting and speed the heal-ing," Seancoim said. "There are anduilleaf flowers still in bloom in the thicket near the camp." His staff tapping the ground ahead of him, he shuffled away between the barrows.

"Jenna," Mac Ard said. "We saw the lights. Did the stone. .?"

"I hold the stone," she answered, far more sharply than she intended. Belatedly, she added: "Tiarna."

His eyes flashed, narrowing, and his hands dropped from Maeve’s shoulders. "Jenna!" her mam said. "After all the tiarna’s risked for us. ."

"I know, but we've risked our own lives as well," Jenna told her, watch the wood. The last time I passed by the valley of the tombs, with a bright moon above, I saw him walking restlessly outside near the dolmen, look-ing up at the night sky. When you came, I realized that it might be that the Last Holder needed to meet the new First, so I made certain our path went by the tombs."

"You know about this cloch, then," she said. "He called it Lamh Shabhala. Can you tell me-what will it do to me? What does it mean to be the First?"

Seancoim shrugged under his furs. "I know the magic of the earth, not the sky, and they're very different. Jenna, it's been four centuries since the mage-lights last came, and you Daoine had Lamh Shabhala then. For the Bunus Muintir. . well, the last time we possessed the cloch you hold was not long after you Daoine came here, an entire age ago. and all the tales have been so twisted and distorted in the tellings and retellings that much of the lore can't be trusted, or is so wrapped with untruths that it's difficult to separate the two. Each time, the cloudmages must learn anew. I can tell you very little that I know with a certainty is true."

"I'm scared, Seancoim," Jenna said, her voice husky and broken.

He stopped. He took her injured hand in his gnarled, wrinkled fingers. "Then you're wiser than anyone else who is searching for Lamh Shabhala," he said.

The land flattened out into a plain, and Jenna noticed that the trees were no longer so closely huddled together. The oaks were now less numerous than maples, elms, and tall firs, and the ground less boggy than the wide valley where Ballintubber sat. The woods grew lighter, with the sky visible between the treetops, and Jenna became aware of the bright singing of birds in the trees above them, a sound that she realized had been missing in Doire Coill. Ahead, they could see where the trees ended at the verge of a large grassy field, which ran slightly downhill to a wide, brown strip of bare earth bordered on either side by a stone fence.

"There is the High Road coming up from Thiar in the west and Bacathair to the south," Seancoim said. He pointed to the left. "That way, the road runs north to cross the Duan at Ath Iseal. Beyond the line of trees on the other side of the road is Lough

Lar, and the High Road runs along-side it. This is the eastern border of Doire Coill, and here I leave you."

"Thank you, Seancoim of the Bunus Muintir," Mac Ard said. "I promise you that I’ll tell Ri Gabair of your help. Is there some way I can have him reward you for bringing us here safely?"

"Tell Ri Gabair to leave Doire Coill alone," Seancoim answered. "That will be reward enough for the few Bunus Muintir who are left."

Mac Ard nodded. Jenna went to Seancoim and hugged him, then stroked Dunmharu’s back.

"Thank you," she said.

"Take care of yourself," Seancoim whispered into her ear. "Be sparing with the anduilleaf; do not use it unless you must, or you’ll find it difficult to stop. I also think you should be careful about showing the power of the cloch you hold. Do you understand?"

Jenna nodded. She hugged Seancoim again, inhaling his scent of herbs. "I’ll miss you."

"I am always here," he told her. "Just come into Doire Coill and call my name, and I’ll hear it." He let her go, and turned his blind eyes toward Maeve. "Take care of your daughter," he said. "She’ll need your help with the burden she bears."

Maeve nodded. "I know. I thank you also, Seancoim. When I first met you, I didn’t trust you, but you’ve kept your word to us and more."

"Remember that when you look on others," he answered. He gave a short bow to the three of them. "May the Mother-Creator watch your path. Denmark, come-we have our own business to the south." He turned his back to them and walked off into the forest. Jenna watched until his form was swallowed in shadow, and the three of them made their way to the High Road.

Chapter 10: The Taisteal

THE High Road, between the waist-high stone walls that bordered its path, was rough and muddy, with a scraggly growth of grass and weeds in the center between ruts carved by the wheels of carts and car-riages. Mac Ard bent down to look closely at the road. "All the hoof marks are old. No riders have passed this way in a few days," he said. "That makes me feel a bit easier." He stood up, scanning the landscape. "I've come up on this side of Lough Lar a few times. Ath Iseal is no more than ten miles to the north, but there aren't many inns or villages along this side of the lake, so near to Doire Coill. It's too late for us to reach the town today, but we can camp along the lake's shore if we don't come across an inn. Tomorrow morning it should be an easy walk to the ford of the Duan, and once across to Ath Iseal I can hire a carriage to take us to Lar Bhaile." He smiled at Maeve, at Jenna. "We're almost home," he said.

Not our home, Jenna wanted to answer. That's gone forever. She clamped her lips together to stop the words and nodded encouragingly.

They walked through the afternoon. The High Road followed the line of Lough Lar, sometimes verging close enough that they could see the blue waters of the lake just to their right. At other times, the road turned aside for a bit to climb the low, wooded hills that held the lake in their cupped hands. As they approached the narrow end of the lake, the dark woods of Doire Coill turned westward and gave way to large squares of farmed and grazed land, defined with tidy stone fences. Occasionally, they would pass a gate in the fence that bordered the High Road, with a lane leading far back to a hidden farmhouse set a mile or more from the road. Jenna, used to the small homesteads and farms of Ballintubber, was amazed by the size of some of the fields. They saw workers in those fields, and once had to stand aside as a hay wagon drawn by a pair of tired, old horses squealed and creaked its way past them. The driver looked at them curiously, and said little to Mac Ard's hail. They passed no one at all on the road going in their direction.

Toward evening, they came to an empty field on the lough side of the road. The flickering lights of cook fires glistened there among several tents and four wagons. They could hear the nickering of horses and the occasional laughter of people. There was a sign hanging on one of the wagons, written in high black letters that were still visible in the dusk.

"What does the sign say?"

"You can’t read?"

Jenna shook her head. "Neither of us know our letters," Maeve said, "but Niall could read. He said he’d teach me, but. ." Remembered sorrow touched her face, and Jenna hugged her mam.

"No matter," Mac Ard said. "Once we’re in Lar Bhaile, we can find teachers for you. Reading can be a useful art, though it’s probably best that the common folk don’t learn the skill. The sign says ’Clan Sheehan. Pots mended, goods sold.’" Mac Ard seemed to hesitate. "These are Tais-teal camped for the night. They’re coming down from the north, so per-haps they’ve heard something. If nothing else, we can probably buy shelter for the night here."

"Can you trust them?" Maeve asked nervously. "Some of the Taisteal who have come through Ballintubber were thieves and cheats, and often the goods you buy from them are damaged or poorly made. The last ones through fixed a leaking pot of Matron Kelly’s and it began to leak again not two days after they were gone."